


field test

by matskreider



Series: tumblr prompts [9]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - James Bond, Alternate Universe - Spies, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 07:42:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13290246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matskreider/pseuds/matskreider
Summary: Braden leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, having just returned from his Raleigh mission. The time difference wasn’t so severe that he was jetlagged, but he felt like he was losing all hope of sleep just watching Nicklas and Ovi go at it. He’s letting his eyes rest when he hears a timid set of footsteps coming up beside him. He lets the newcomer squirm for a little bit, before finally saying, “If you have a question, it helps to actually ask it rather than just sitting there in fear.”When he cracks his eyes open, he sees a rather determined pout coming from Nicklas’ favorite underling, a new guy called Burakovsky. “Sorry, 0070. I was going to offer to debrief you, if you were waiting for Q. He’s, um…going to be busy for a while.”Sure enough, the argument was reaching new levels, and Braden sighs, knowing it’s better to just take the help when it’s offered. “Sure, Burakovsky. Let’s go.”





	field test

“If I’ve told you once, 008, I’ve told you a million times. I work hard to engineer these, by hand, and I’m  _ not  _ explaining to M again why you felt the need to destroy a few million dollars worth of machinery because you couldn’t be bothered to listen to the plan. You’re an entire fool if you think I won’t make him put you on desk duty again, and if he doesn’t, I will make you wish. He. Had. Do you understand me?” Nicklas growls, staring down Ovi from across his desk.

Ovi’s reputation for destroying the gadgets created by their Quartermaster was legendary, and Nicklas’ predecessor had simply learned how to navigate around his destructive tendencies. Nicklas, however, was determined to teach an old dog new tricks, and everyone had betting pools about which of them would crack first. He wasn’t the first to try to set Ovi straight, but he was the one who had lasted the longest.

Braden leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, having just returned from his Raleigh mission. The time difference wasn’t so severe that he was jetlagged, but he felt like he was losing all hope of sleep just watching Nicklas and Ovi go at it. He’s letting his eyes rest when he hears a timid set of footsteps coming up beside him. He lets the newcomer squirm for a little bit, before finally saying, “If you have a question, it helps to actually ask it rather than just sitting there in fear.”

When he cracks his eyes open, he sees a rather determined pout coming from Nicklas’ favorite underling, a new guy called Burakovsky. “Sorry, 0070. I was going to offer to debrief you, if you were waiting for Q. He’s, um…going to be busy for a while.”

Sure enough, the argument was reaching new levels, and Braden sighs, knowing it’s better to just take the help when it’s offered. “Sure, Burakovsky. Let’s go.”

“You can call me Burkie, if you want. Nicke does, sometimes,” Burkie says, before turning on his heel and opening up the debriefing paperwork on his tablet. “Come along, I’ll enter it all in so you can head right to medical after this.”

_ He must really be new, if he thinks I’m going to medical after this,  _ Braden thinks to himself, before following along.

* * *

Burkie and Braden get closer over the following months, before they get a visit from the favored set of Swedish twins. The Lundqvist twins’ visit were a sigh of relief for everyone who had to deal with Nicklas during that time, because he was actually unclenched, for whatever reason. Henrik and Joel specialized in clothing based weaponry, accessories and what not, and their visits usually meant an upgrade in the agents’ wardrobes.

It also meant watching Henrik try not to peel Ovi out of his denim disasters and force him into something “suited for a spy of his caliber.” It was an age old battle, and Braden took great pleasure in watching the struggle. He did not, however, take pleasure in watching Burkie practically hanging off of the twins’ every word, whether it was Henrik talking about the difference between Oxfords and Brogues, or Joel walking him through the proper form on the shooting range.

He also should have been paying more attention when Burkie started asking for customized outfits from the twins. He probably should have been paying attention when he heard the rumor that he was shaping up to pass the fitness test. He  _ definitely  _ should have realized when he found Burkie, shirtless and panting, fighting Wilson in hand to hand. And  _ holding his own,  _ which was impressive in its own right.

But he was too busy trying not to lust after the one person who was perhaps harder to get to than Nicklas, but for the same reason; Nicklas himself. For a spy, he really wasn’t on his A game when it came to the young Swede, because he wound up finding himself completely blindsided as M sat him down and said, “You’re taking Burakovsky into the field.”

“I beg your pardon, Sir?”

“You’re taking Burakovsky into the field. He’s passed the requirements to enter the field. Take him with you on your next mission. You already have the details. Your flight leaves this afternoon, though; better hurry. I hear he’s already packed,” M replies, taking a sip of his bourbon and smirking at Braden.

He’s fucked.

* * *

Correction;  _ they’re  _ fucked.

They’re at a party in New York, and Braden’s already made his rounds, introducing people to Burkie as his business partner, before retreating to the smoke lounge. He can see Burkie still up and socializing, never once getting too hung up on one person, making his way through the room. Braden’s job is to talk to the Boss, currently sitting at his left, while Burkie distracts his coworkers long enough that he can figure out if he actually ordered the hit on the Russian ambassador or not.

All is going according to plan, until Burkie finds himself in a position that normally would be okay, but now, isn’t the best. Braden forces himself to bite his tongue as he listens to Burkie’s weak attempts to say no, and he catches sight of a gold dress practically pushing Burkie up the stairs.

“ _ No, no I really shouldn’t –” _

“ _ Come on, live a little,” _ Gold Dress purrs, in a painfully fake French accent, just close enough to Burkie’s ear that Braden can pick it up.

“If you want some help, all you have to do is ask,” Braden murmurs into his glass. From the gasp on the other side, his words may have come too late.

“ _ I mean, if you wanted to help me, that would be great. I mean, do you have a plan? _ ” he answers to Braden, but Gold Dress takes it to mean it’s for her.

“Yeah, I have a plan.”

Gold Dress must be talking, because Burkie is silent for a moment too long. Braden politely excuses himself from the room, draining the rest of his whiskey and making his way upstairs. There’s a crackling in the earpiece, before he hears a muttered, “ _ Is it a good one?” _

“I said, I have a plan,” he mutters back, putting his hand on the doorknob of the room they’re in. He takes a breath, before throwing the door open, and walking in, pulling the jealous lover routine quite easily.

“I leave you for five minutes and you go and find the nearest tramp, is that it?” he growls, staring Burkie down.

The young Swede is spread on the bed, his shirt unbuttoned and Gold Dress straddling him. Burkie tries to move, stuttering out, “It isn’t what it looks like.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Andre,” Braden returns. The shock in Burkie’s eyes, that he not only knows his first name but is willing to use it, adds to the drama. Gold Dress quietly gets off of Andre, sitting on the edge of the bed in silence. Braden walks over and hauls Andre up to his feet, and pulls him into a bruising, claiming kiss. It’s not the way he thought he would make his move on Andre, if he ever did, and he can practically hear Nicke having a conniption when he hears about this, but Andre’s melting into his arms and his thinking shuts off.

By the time he pulls back, Andre’s looking up at him with stars in his wide eyes, and he’s all too warm and pliant in his arms. Gold Dress is long gone, and Braden clears his throat, stepping back. “Did, um. Did you get what we came here for?”

“Oh.” Disappointment clouds his gaze. “Oh, um, yeah. Yeah, there’s no way he could have. I checked all their weapons, it, um, doesn’t match the caliber. If he did order it, it didn’t come from inside his Family,” Andre answers.

“Well, good job. We should head back.” He should be headed towards the door, but he doesn’t want to let go of Andre just yet. Who knows when he could have this again?

“We could. But, um. There’s more of the city to explore, if you wanted,” Andre murmurs, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose a bright red. “Even if it’s just our hotel room…”

Braden smirks at what has got to be the shyest proposition he’s ever received. “I think that could be arranged.”

He’s not expecting the following kiss, but then again he’s never really expecting anything when it comes to Andre.

**Author's Note:**

> ....don't @ me okay, i love james bond but it's been a hot while since i was in the fandom, and i know that their numbers don't go past 009, but holtby's number does, and "double oh seventy" rolls off the tongue better than just "oh seventy" so. here we are.
> 
> hmu on the [tumbles](http://matskreider.tumblr.com/)


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